


Into The Wind

by Briar Rose (Byrcca)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode: s03e14 Alter Ego, F/M, Golden Oldies, Proto P/T
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 01:56:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19163458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byrcca/pseuds/Briar%20Rose
Summary: A little bit 'o nothing missing scene from Alter Ego.





	Into The Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Again, my thanks to Lady Arreya for giving me my babies back. So funny that I only remember writing some of these as I reread them. 
> 
> Originally posted somewhere else in October 2004

Original Author's Note, for posterity: I have no idea today what the first refers to. ??

Disclaimer: I’m having ‘writer’s remorse’ over… well, you’ll be able to pick it out. It will make your lip curl, and the word ‘trite’ will enter you mind. Ignore that. Or stop reading. Meh. 

Disclaimer 2: My Ayala has Mike as a first name. It seems to be a given. Fanfic canon. I know I didn’t invent the name, but it feels right. For those of you into slash, apparently his first name is Greg. Whatever. 

 

~*~*~*~

“You could just ask her to dance.”

It took a moment for the sound to filter into Tom’s brain and register as words. His head swiveled on his shoulders, and he looked across the table at Joe Carey’s patient smile. He looked like he knew something.

“Huh?”

Joe sighed and shot an amused glance at Ayala, who outright grinned. Mike wiped the smile off his face with the back of his hand. 

“Look, Tom, while this last hour and a half has been very… informative, and certainly entertaining. at times…” Joe slanted another significant look at Ayala. The large man turned his back to Tom and snorted. “I think you’ve probably said all there is to say about plasma manifold injectors, and sailing in a hurricane. Actually,” Joe leaned conspiratorially across the table and his voice dropped an octave. His chin missed the ornate floral centerpiece by a hair. “I think you missed your true calling. You should be lecturing at the Academy.”

Confusion flitted across Tom’s face. True, he’d been talking practically non-stop about nothing since he’d sat down over an hour ago. But he’d just been avoiding a lull in the conversation. Truth be told, he’d been afraid the other men would somehow figure out that he wished he was somewhere else – with someone else – if he’d allowed them the silence to form a thought. 

His eyes involuntarily flickered toward the lake. Joe followed the direction of Tom’s nose, and nodded.

“Ask her.”

“The captain?” Tom tried. 

“B’Elanna.”

Tom snapped upright, reached for his pineapple-shaped cup. It was empty. Damn, where was a serving girl when you needed one? He cleared his throat.

“I... She...” A casual flick of the hand, “she’s busy.”

“I don’t think she’d mind the interruption,” Joe persisted. “C’mon, Tom. Don’t be scared, she doesn’t bite.”

“Packs a mean left hook, though,” Ayala interjected. Joe laughed and rubbed his nose.

Tom’s smile made his cheeks ache. “I’m sure she’s having a good time with Vorik. If she wanted to dance, she’d ask him.” 

And she did look like she was having a good time. Damn it. Tom had thought about rescuing her from Vorik tonight – had contemplated it for a few moments when she’d sent him that ‘save me’ look – but he’d made the split-second decision to send her to her fate. She’d invited the little eager beaver along on their – Well, okay, it wasn’t a date exactly. Not since they’d intended to meet up with Harry. But after Harry had left the holodeck in a snit, it could have been a date. Sort of. Tom would have given it the old college try!

But no, B’Elanna had decided to invite that interloper to join them, and now she had to suffer the consequences. Except she didn’t look like she was suffering. And as her laughter floated toward him on the hibiscus-scented breeze, Tom had to admit that she didn’t sound like she was suffering, either. 

Rats.

“Oh yeah, Ensign Vorik’s a great conversationalist.” 

“Especially when he’s talking about plasma manifold injectors!” Ayala guffawed. He gulped the last of his Rekarri Starburst, and choked. Joe pounded him on the back. 

Tom’s eyes narrowed. 

“I just thought it would save wear and tear on your neck if you got up and walked over there,” Joe smiled. 

“But aren’t we having fun here? Great conversation, food, drinks.” Tom gestured with his empty plastic pineapple. The little umbrella fell off of the chunk of papaya and landed on the tabletop. “A group of fun-loving bachelors, checking out the women.” 

The female contingent of the crew did look lovely with their leis and flowered dresses, Tom admitted. Even the captain had her hair down for the evening. And she looked distinctly ‘un-captain-like’ at the moment, sandwiched between Chakotay and Ensign Murphy in a conga line that Megan Delaney had started. A conga line that he had declined to be pulled into. A conga line that was even now scooping up B’Elanna and Vorik. 

A waitress decked out in grass skirt and layers of flowers passed by the table. Joe snagged another fruity pineapple off her laden tray, and plunked it down in front of Tom. “Well, you can sit here and check out the action, but I’m going to join in. Have fun!”

Carey patted Tom’s shoulder as he made his escape, and Tom caught the glint of torchlight as it bounced off Joe’s wedding band. He watched Joe head straight for the conga line, and butt in behind Jenny Delaney. 

“That looks like fun.” Ayala stood up and stared at Tom for a moment. “You know, maybe you should take your own advice,” he said quietly.

Tom stared at the steady, quiet man, a former Maquis who had left a wife and two sons behind in the Alpha Quadrant. A man, who, from the lack of buzz on the ship’s grapevine, likely still thought of them daily. “What’s that?” he asked.

“Tack into the wind.”

Tom fully expected him to join in the dance, but Mike headed for the exit doors instead. And then it hit him. He’d had such hopes for the evening: being able to sit with B’Elanna in her amazing dress and just talk, charm her into moving their friendship a little further. Maybe even winning a goodnight kiss. And it might have still happened, Vorik or no, if he hadn’t sabotaged his own evening by sitting with Joe and Ayala all night. Bachelor table, my ass, Tom thought. He’d deliberately insinuated himself with the old marrieds on the ship - men who still believed in the bonds of their marriages after two years in the Delta Quadrant. He’d tried to make a statement by sitting with his back to B’Elanna and Vorik, and then had practically twisted his head off by constantly turning to watch them. 

His face set with determination. He plunked his drink down on the table with a thump, then picked it up again and took a hearty swallow of the sweet synthehol for courage. Tom stood, stiffened his spine, and headed for Megan and her snaking line of dancers. 

He managed to evade Meg when she reached for the collar of his Big Daddy-O surfer shirt, and he squeezed his way between the bouncing dancers and tables filled with the cheering crowd until he came level with B’Elanna. He touched her on the shoulder, and her head came up, her generous mouth stretched in a wide grin. Her face was rosy with exertion, and her eyes sparkled. 

Damn. She really did look smashing. 

“Tom!” 

B’Elanna ‘mis-congaed’ and stumbled against him, and Tom took the opportunity to pull her away from the crowd. She grinned up at him, flushed, and warm, and alive. “I thought you’d left.”

“No, I…” He stared at her face, momentarily lost in her joy of the moment. “I was keeping Joe and Mike Ayala company.” He realized that he still held her by the upper arms where he’d gripped her to steady her when she’d tripped. He forced his hands to let go of her warm skin. He was starting to feel a bit unsteady himself. 

“Having fun?” he asked.

She laughed, a pure, unselfconscious sound. “Yes! This luau was a great idea.”

Tom preened. He couldn’t help himself. The show-off inside him was starting to crowd out the sincere-guy. “Why, thank you! It was sort of my idea. I helped Neelix make a few adjustments to the program. Gave him a few suggestions, you know.”

Her eyebrow rose, and Tom saw her eyes glaze over before she looked away, searching for the disappearing conga line. Damn.

“Um, you owe me a dance!” Tom had always subscribed to the ‘best defense is a good offence’ line of thought. 

Her eyes swung back to him, their sparkle returned full force. Her chin lifted in a challenge. “Oh, really?”

“Well, yeah. That is, if your date with Vorik is over.” Tom felt a warm curl in his gut. She drew her shoulders back and chuffed at him. Oh yes, this was more like it.

“That was not a date!”

“It looked like a date to me. A table for two by the water, romantic music, candlelight. He got you food from the buffet. Three times.”

“How do you know? You had your back to us the whole evening.”

Bingo. She’d been watching him, too.

“I have my sources. Dance?”

A quick glance over her shoulder. “Maybe one,” she conceded. 

The middle of the conga line had snaked back toward them, and B’Elanna grabbed Tom’s hand and tugged him after her. She slid in behind Joe Carey and pulled Tom behind her. He settled his hands on her waist, spreading his fingers over the curve of her hips. It would do for now, he decided. 

And he made another decision, too. He would follow Ayala’s advice and tack into B’Elanna’s hurricane-force wind, and do his best to hang on. 

~*~


End file.
